Familiar Faces
by ThoseWereTheDays
Summary: A young smuggler holds a dark secret that even he can't begin to comprehend... Takes place shortly after the events of ROTS. ***previously 'The Smuggler'***
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

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"Who are you?"

_Silence._

"What is your name?"

_A long, excruciating silence._

"Where did you come from?"

_A sideways glance. Subtle, but it's still there._

"Who sent you?"

_Another glance. More obvious than the first._

"What is your mission?"

_Finally, a reaction. _

The prisoner, tall and lean, arches his brow before his face once again hardens and he releases a long, drawn–out sigh.

"Mission?" he repeats, exasperated by the endless line of questioning. "I already told you, I don't know what you're talking about. There's no mission…"

_Yet another glance. A skeptical, distrusting look between his two interrogators._

"This is useless," the man says, his words impatient and slightly accented. "We've been at it for hours. Either he's telling the truth and he doesn't know anything, or he's a damn good liar."

The man's companion, standing in the shadows like an inert statue and peering through the darkness, studies their captive intently for a moment before speaking.

"I sense no deception or ill will in him," a strong, feminine voice eventually responds. "However, he does know something that he isn't telling us… even if he doesn't realize it himself."

Looking almost as confused by his partner's assessment as their prisoner, the man merely frowns and wearily runs his fingers through his graying hair.

"I'm getting too old for this," he mutters under his breath.

The woman takes another moment to carefully scrutinize their seated prisoner before proceeding.

_Still unmoving. Still detached and hidden in the shadows._

"Tell me, what can you recall?" she finally asks. "You must remember something. Anything."

The prisoner hesitates, but only for a second. "I remember… a hooded figure. Its eyes were cold, probing. It wanted something from me."

Even through the dim lighting, he sees the woman nod. "Go on…"

"There was another figure," he continues, shifting in his chair. "It was large. Much larger than the other. It never spoke, but I could hear… breathing. Almost mechanical. When I first saw it, I thought it was a droid."

At this, the man's interest suddenly piques.

"What else?" he chimes in, attempting to mask his curiosity, but failing miserably.

The prisoner struggles to remember, but to no avail. His head is filled with vague images, shapes, sounds… nothing distinguishable. Nothing these people want.

_Defeat. Frustration. Helplessness. Resignation._

"Nothing," his blunt answer comes slowly, quietly.

The man's face falls in disappointment, but he is quick to recover. "So, you're tellin' me that you have no idea who or what you are?"

_Same questions. Different hour._

"Well?" he persists, refusing to relent. He expectantly folds his arms across his chest when he doesn't get the desired result.

_An aggravated shake of the head._

"You want me to tell you? You really wanna know?" he asks at last; his voice eerily low and subdued. "Well, what would you say if I told you you're a dead man?"

The prisoner's posture stiffens. Was that meant as a threat?

"Don't…" the woman interjects, softly but firmly. "Now is not the time. We have asked enough questions for one day."

The man suspiciously narrows his eyes, but pivots on his heel and follows his partner when she calmly starts toward the door to the gloomy holding cell. Unable to resist the urge to steal one last glimpse, the mysterious woman slows her pace and steps aside while he exits the room. Pausing in the threshold, she briefly glances over her shoulder before turning and leaving their prisoner to himself.

_Impossible._

Once outside, the bewildered Togruta turns to her companion as the single durasteel door slides shut behind them with a loud hiss.

"I don't know what to make of all this," the man exhales, visibly shaken and at a loss for words. "Could you get a read on the guy?"

_A curt nod, no. A small gesture, but easily understood._

The man's frown deepens. "You believe him, then?"

_A barely perceivable nod, yes. Faint, but just as easily understood._

"So, what do we do now?" he inquires.

"I don't know," his companion replies, honestly. "But this whole thing isn't right… and that is not Anakin Skywalker."

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**_Author's Note:_**

_First and foremost, I do not own Star Wars… not that anyone out there would ever make that mistake. Secondly, this story is meant to be a mystery – hence the lack of details in the description. I will say that it involves a few OC's, as well as a few characters that we're all familiar with._

_Also, I suppose this fic could be considered canon (at least, until we find out what happens to one or two main characters post–Clone Wars). So, if you're willing to give it a chance, I hope you enjoy!_

_**Cheers,**_

_**ThoseWereTheDays**_


	2. Chapter 1

**I. NO QUARTER**

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_She was back…_

Releasing a weary sigh, the smuggler refrained from meeting the woman's gaze when she slid into the empty seat beside his and began to flirt with the cantinas scruffy bartender. Instead, he tried his damnedest to ignore the pair and avoid drawing attention to himself while he quietly nursed a mug of Corellian ale.

He had ordered the frothy beverage almost an hour earlier, but had scarcely touched it. Truth be told, he had never been particularly fond of tavern crowds, or even drinking, for that matter. He had only his boredom to blame for venturing out this night. It had been a long journey to Coruscant, and he had found himself alone and needing to burn off some steam after delivering his most recent shipment. The haul had been large. As a result, the job had proven very lucrative for he and his crew of misfits.

_A distinct squeak. The sound of an old, worn–out stool turning._

Just as he had anticipated, it wasn't long before the voluptuous woman swiveled on her seat and turned to him with a seductive smirk.

_Not again. Take the hint, lady._

"You know, I'm awfully parched," she spoke up in a low, sultry voice once the barkeep had moved away to serve a rather impatient Duros customer. "Would you care to buy me a drink, sweetheart? You won't regret it. I can be very, very grateful."

"Sorry, not interested…" he retorted, shortly.

"You sure, honey? Do you really want to pass up what could be the most pleasurable experience of your life?" the woman purred as she leaned forward and trailed her fingers across his leg. He tensed when she raised a brow and gave a throaty laugh; her outstretched hand drifting closer to his inner thigh. "Tell you what… you're young, handsome. How about I cut my going rate in half just this once, hmm? Play your cards right, and I'll show you a night you'll never forget."

The woman yelped in surprise when her hand was suddenly wrenched away. Seizing her by the wrist, a familiar lavender–haired Pantoran roughly shoved her aside before taking hold of the smuggler's arm and pulling him to his feet.

_Tavora._

"Back off, if you want to keep that hand," his second–in–command spat. Yanking him after her, she paid the fuming courtesan no mind as she hastily pushed her way through the mob of boisterous patrons and started toward the nearest exit. "Sorry to interrupt your little date, but we have a problem."

"What are you doing?" he asked, glancing over at the bartender when he angrily shouted out after them. "I haven't covered my tab."

"Believe me, that's the least of our worries," Tavora replied.

_That tone. It was recognizable, not to be taken lightly. Panic._

"What's going on?" he questioned.

"No time to explain," was her curt response. "We have to find Diggs and get back to the ship."

_Diggs. He, at least, would be easy enough to track down._

* * *

"This was stupid," Tavora declared, swiftly making her way through the littered streets of Coruscant's squalid, decaying underworld. "What were we thinking? We never should have come here. We may be rich, but what good is making all that money if you die before you get a chance to spend it?"

"Always the pessimist," her captain remarked. "We've survived worse, or have you forgotten? Take our situation on Felucia, for instance…"

Tavora shot her fellow smuggler a sideways glance. Weaving in and out of the sea of pedestrians lining the duracrete streets, she kept her voice hushed as not to be overheard by uninvited ears.

"On Felucia, all we had to worry about was a gang of blundering pirates," she retorted, never slowing her pace. "This is different, and you know it."

_A lopsided grin. He could be so damned sure of himself sometimes…_

"You're impossible," she added, shaking her head in exasperation while they continued on their way. "How can you be smiling at a time like this? I just told you that Imperial soldiers are sweeping Coruscant's lower levels for known fugitives, and you're acting like it's some big joke. It's a wonder you haven't gotten us killed already with the risks you take."

"The bigger the risk, the bigger the profit," he replied. "I didn't hear you complaining when I handed over your share."

"If I had any sense at all, I would have demanded double what you're paying me," Tavora grumbled. "If only I had known what I was getting myself into when I first signed on to work with you."

The ranting Pantoran followed suit and halted mid–stride when her captain suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. "What is it? Why are we stopping?"

Following his gaze, it didn't take her long to spot what had caught his attention.

_White armor. Stormtroopers. Only three, but that was enough._

The trio of Imperial troopers stood before a visibly shaken Nikto while they inspected his identification card. After a moment, they returned the card and he hastily resumed his previous course.

"This way," Tavora spoke up, turning to start in the opposite direction.

She froze when she spotted yet another group of troopers approaching from behind. The soldiers weren't heading directly toward them, but would undoubtedly notice their presence once they drew nearer. That was, assuming that they had indeed, somehow landed themselves among those targeted by the Empire.

Finding that they were fast running out of options, she had no alternative but to act as the troopers rapidly closed the distance. They had to blend in.

_I'll never hear the end of this._

Without warning, she grabbed her captain and pushed him up against the nearest wall. "Just play along…"

He had no time to react as she wrapped her slender arms around his neck, and captured his lips in her own. At first, the contact was forced and awkward. However, she soon found herself sinking into the warmth of his embrace as their bodies tentatively pressed together, and his own arms slowly encircled her waist. It was strange, yet at the same time oddly exhilarating; not that she would ever admit it aloud.

_Softer, gentler than expected._

The kiss deepened, while the troopers were momentarily forgotten. When their lips finally parted, the movement was clumsy and abrupt. She wouldn't have him thinking that she had actually enjoyed it. Admittedly, the kiss had probably lasted longer than necessary. By the time she had withdrawn from his hold on her, which he had reluctantly allowed, the unsuspecting stormtroopers had already gone about their business and disappeared amid the endless stream of moving civilians. Luckily, the pair of smugglers had remained inconspicuous enough to avoid detection.

Still slightly out of breath, Tavora peered up to see a face that she knew must have matched her own.

_That look. There was surprise, but also… yearning?_

She uncomfortably cleared her throat before breaking the growing silence. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"Maybe we should get hunted down by the Empire more often," came the inevitable reply. "It has its perks…"

"Not another word, or I'll make you wish the Empire had you bound and gagged," she retorted, barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Now, let's go."

Taking one last survey of their surroundings, and finding that there were no longer any scouts in their immediate vicinity, she quickly drifted into the crowd to lead the way to their destination. Peering straight ahead, she did her best to suppress the smirk that was tugging at the corners of her mouth.

* * *

**3 Days Later…**

_Alone. Unarmed. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide._

Unable to sit still, Ryder Jinn paced the cramped holding cell that he had been taken to shortly after regaining consciousness. He had initially found himself lying in a small, stark white room in a plain beige tunic. How he had arrived there, or whom exactly had dressed him, he wasn't sure.

The room had contained only a single bed, but it had been far more desirable than his current location. Now, locked within what appeared to be a chamber meant for performing interrogations, he had only a durasteel table and two matching chairs on either side of it to choose from. Having been escorted at gunpoint by numerous men clad in unfamiliar uniforms, it had now been several hours since he had last seen a living soul.

_Those uniforms. Perhaps those of Imperial interrogators?_

The last thing he could remember was Kashyyyk. He had plummeted to, what he had thought at the time, would be his death. After that, everything was a blank. He had later awoken in the strange tunic with his torso wrapped tightly in bandages, and feeling as if he had been trampled by a stampede of banthas. He couldn't fathom why the Empire would see to his medical needs, but they had clearly given him the attention he required.

_A sound… at the door._

Squaring his shoulders, Ryder winced and gritted his teeth as his aching side protested the movement. The door to his cell slid open an instant later.

_This is it. The moment of truth._

To say the least, he wasn't expecting the sight that he saw next. A man hesitantly entered, followed by a cloaked figure. The lighting was dim and he couldn't quite make out a visage beneath its hood, but he could discern by its height and slim physique that the second visitor was more than likely a woman.

"Sit down," the man was the first to speak. "We need to talk…"

* * *

_**Author's Note**__**:**_

_One chapter down, nine more (give or take) to go! Again, a few OC's belong to me, but the rest belongs to… well, I think we all know by now. _

_Since this particular story is a mystery, I can't reveal too much information too soon. Hopefully, some of you will be patient enough to follow along. I also hope everything will make as much sense in writing as it does in my head. As always, reviews are welcome and much appreciated!_

_**~ThoseWereTheDays**_


	3. Chapter 2

**II. END OF THE LINE**

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Despite standing more than a foot taller than his second–in–command, Ryder had to quicken his pace to keep up with the anxious Pantoran as she rushed toward the entrance to the dingy nightclub. Without hesitation, she made her way through the various carousers mingling just outside the building and approached its doors, but grimaced when they were stopped by a large, burly Klatooinian bouncer with an unfriendly disposition. Ryder, too, frowned and silently cursed to himself.

_Yet another obstacle to overcome._

"Sorry, full house tonight," the bouncer greeted them with a scowl. "If you're not on the list, don't bother."

"This is an emergency. You have to let us pass," Tavora retorted, refusing to take no for an answer. "We will only be a moment, I can assure you."

"Is your name on the list?" the Klatooinian questioned as he looked between the two smugglers. "If so, be my guest. Otherwise, you're wasting your time… and mine."

Tavora opened her mouth to protest, but held her tongue when Ryder stepped forward and rested a firm hand on her shoulder.

"Forgive my friend here," he chimed in. "Sometimes she can be a bit too headstrong for her own good."

_Truer words have never been spoken._

He smirked when his comment garnered him an aggravated look from his companion. She would most likely have something to say about it later.

The bouncer responded with a grunt as he shifted his focus back to the impetuous Pantoran. "You don't say."

"But I'm sure we can work something out," Ryder continued, retrieving a satchel of Imperial credits from his utility belt. "There's no reason why we can't be civil about this, am I right?"

_Another grunt. No reply._

Flashing a smug grin, Ryder plopped the satchel down in the Klatooinian's awaiting palm. Scoffing, Tavora folded her arms across her chest and glared daggers at the reprehensible bouncer as he accepted the small bag and inspected its contents. He gave the offering a brief once–over before slipping it into his pocket.

"Sorry, pal… still not on the list," he said, his expression cool and impassive.

Ryder wasn't the least bit deterred by his dismissive attitude. "My mistake."

His grin broadening, he pulled out another satchel and handed it over. The Klatooinian held it in his outstretched palm, as if measuring its weight, before tucking it safely away in his other pocket. He then quirked a brow while he mulled over his options.

_Everyone has their price._

"Well, whad'da ya know," he responded at last; casually whipping out a datapad and making a show of studying its screen. "You're on the list, after all."

_Apparently, that's his…_

Her disgust palpable, Tavora followed in tow after Ryder gave a curt nod and started for the door. Bribery was the way of much of the galaxy, but that didn't make it any better.

Shaking her head, she gladly put the bouncer behind her and made her way inside the club; the steady sound of excessively loud music growing more and more deafening, until it was all she could hear. A suffocating haze of smoke wafted through the air and stung her eyes the instant she stepped through the threshold, while the overwhelming stench of stale liquor assaulted her nose. With any luck, they wouldn't have to spend a second longer than necessary in the revolting establishment.

"We won't be long," Ryder called out over his shoulder, as if he had somehow read her thoughts. "Stay close and watch your back."

The club was teeming with gamblers and drunkards, thieves and degenerates, scantily clad women of all different races and species, bounty hunters, cutthroats, the rich, the greedy, those who sought solicitation, those who sought financial gain at any cost, those with blood on their hands… the worst of the worst. The scourge of the galaxy. And like Tavora, he had no intention of sticking around to partake in the debauchery. Why exactly their missing crewmate had selected to visit, of all places, this particular nightclub, was beyond him.

Brushing a wary finger against the handle of the blaster dangling at his side, Ryder cautiously took in their new surroundings. Directly to the right, a quartet of Bith musicians played an uptempo jatz number. Off to the left, a crowd of male spectators rudely hooted, hollered and whistled while several exotic dancers performed on a raised stage. Straight ahead, a fight had broken out between a pair of intoxicated cardsharps. They went mostly ignored as they tussled, threw punches, crashed through a table, and eventually ended up wrestling on the ground.

"How does he find these places?" he heard Tavora shout.

"He definitely has a knack," Ryder replied, raising his voice just enough to be heard over the commotion.

_A short, humorless laugh. She was not happy… and who could blame her?_

"That's an interesting way of looking at it," she retorted. "So, how do you plan on finding that idiot? This place is huge, and practically bursting at the seams."

_Good question._

Peering up, his gaze swept over a wide, spiraling staircase that gradually ascended and climbed to the second floor of the building. "Up there…"

He could detect Tavora's skepticism. "How do you know?"

"Trust me," was his only response.

"Famous last words," she sighed, but followed nonetheless.

* * *

Quickly rounding the corner, Ryder sidestepped a drunken couple as they cackled giddily and obliviously staggered along. Hot on her captain's heels, Tavora did the same and narrowly avoided colliding with them before turning her attention elsewhere and glancing over the edge of the rickety balustrade that stood precariously to their left. Looking down at the lower floor of the club from their elevated vantage point, she searched the bustling throng of moving bodies, but still failed to locate their reckless flight mechanic.

_Nowhere to be found when he's needed, as usual._

"We don't have time for this," she said with a frown. "If the Empire catches us…"

"They won't," Ryder reassured her.

No sooner had the words left his lips than a luminous Twi'lek woman, face painted with bright makeup and provocatively dressed, emerged from a nearby room. She hastily adjusted and smoothed out the front of her tight miniskirt before starting down the hall in their direction. Spotting the smugglers as they paused to take in the sight, her cheeks flushed and she mustered a sheepish smile; averting her gaze and doing her best to remain discreet while she continued on her way.

_Definitely his type…_

Tavora turned and cleared her throat once the woman had gone. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Ryder shrugged, knowingly. "You wanna knock, or should I?"

_Who said anything about knocking?_

Impatiently clenching her jaw, Tavora approached the door to the Twi'lek's room and kicked it in with one fell swoop. Not wasting any time, she marched inside and glared at its single occupant.

"Get your things together," she ordered, placing a hand on her hip while she stared down at the nonchalant man. "We're leaving."

"Hello, love…" he answered with an infuriatingly arrogant smirk; his tone casual and relaxed as he sat at the edge of an untidied bed and pulled on his boots. "You do know how to make an entrance, don't you?"

"Hurry up, it's time to go," was Tavora's terse reply.

"And where exactly are we off to in such a rush?" he asked, unperturbed by her sudden outburst and still moving at a leisurely pace. "We've only just arrived. Besides, I was just beginning to enjoy myself."

"Yes, I can see that," Tavora retorted in annoyance. "Catching up with an old friend, were you?"

The mechanic chuckled, but his smirk slightly faded when Ryder stepped into the room and joined them. "This isn't a drill, Diggs. Gather what you need and come with us."

A moment later, the conversation came to an abrupt end.

_Screams! Ear–piercing, hysterical. A thunderous roar!_

Tavora spun around with a start. Reaching for the hilt of her trusty vibroblade, she refrained from drawing the weapon and apprehensively watched as Ryder dashed toward the balustrade just outside the room to pinpoint the source of the noise. Always the first to spring into action, he was through the door with his blaster in hand the instant he heard the disturbance. Diggs, finally losing his smirk completely, grabbed his own pistol and held it at the ready.

_No more music. Nothing but the sound of fear, terror._

Ryder only took a moment to weigh their options. Holstering his blaster, he wasted no time as he retreated back into the room and started for the ornate armchair resting in the far corner.

"What's going on, boss?" Diggs spoke up.

"Looks like the local police are dropping by to say hello," Ryder replied as he snatched the chair up from the floor and hoisted it over his head.

_Local police. Stormtroopers._

Giving no warning, he hurled the extravagant piece of furniture at the nearest window; the impact shattering its flimsy transparisteel, and sending a wave of sharp, broken shards flying through the air. The distinct crash of the chair smashing against the duracrete streets below was drowned out by the shrill screams and pure pandemonium of frantic clubbers.

Turning to his two crewmembers, Ryder motioned for them to follow suit as he climbed through their new escape route. "I hope you're not waiting for an engraved invitation."

And with that, he leapt from the windowsill.

* * *

**3 Days Later…**

The weary Togruta gently rubbed her brow in a vain attempt to ward off the migraine that had been slowly but surely developing in her temple; no doubt due to spending far too many hours sitting in front of brightly lit security monitors. Releasing a labored sigh, she allowed her eyes to shut for the first time since she had discovered their mysterious prisoner.

He claimed that he had suffered from amnesia two years earlier. Whether or not she believed him, she had yet to decide. It had felt sincere, but he had been less than forthcoming. After hours of questioning, he had told them his name and little else.

_Ryder Jinn. Qui–Gon Jinn. Merely coincidence?_

Then, just when she had been prepared to give up, he had revealed something far more troubling. He had told them of his first memories…

_A hooded figure. Mechanical breathing._

Exhaling, she once again lifted her eyelids and concentrated on the row of glowing monitors. She winced and squinted against the harsh light, but refused to look away. Leaning forward in her seat, she once again scrutinized the shimmering image of their captive.

_Same hair, same eyes, same nose. No scar._

They needed to find answers. She had to focus… had to uncover the truth. No matter what, she would not rest until the mystery surrounding who or whatever it was that they had stumbled upon was unraveled. Did he mean them harm? Could he grasp what his very existence meant, even if she explained it to him? Or did he already know the answers, and he was simply deceiving them?

"Am I interrupting?"

Sinking back into her chair, she couldn't help but smile when she sensed a warm presence just behind her. "No, I was just… thinking."

The tension in her neck immediately slackened as a set of strong, callused hands slid over her shoulders and began to gingerly knead her taut muscles. Somehow, he always knew how to make her feel better.

_Soldier. Ally. Friend. Confidant._

"You can't keep this up forever," a familiar voice softly chided. "Our guest can wait until tomorrow. You need to sleep."

The admonishment was to be expected. Always, he was worried about her; either fearing for her safety, or afraid that she would become too overburdened. She both loved and hated that about him.

"Do you believe in fate?" she wondered aloud.

"I'm no philosopher, but I suppose anything is possible. I don't presume to know how the galaxy works," came the typical, noncommittal response. "Now, why don't you go and get some rest? I can take over here for a while."

"No, you're right… he can wait until tomorrow," she replied, reaching up to give her partner's hand an appreciative squeeze before rising from her seat and turning to face him. "I am getting tired. It's been a long day."

Together, they departed.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_I apologize if my latest fics have seemed somewhat rushed, but I've been trying (unsuccessfully) to give my 'Beyond Good & Evil' story my full, undivided attention. As a result, I've been cranking my other ideas out faster than I normally would just to get them out of my head. In a perfect world, I'd have more free time to give all my fics equal attention…_

_Now, for the standard disclaimer: I'm a poor, starving musician. If I owned Star Wars, I would be eating lobster instead of bread and water._

_**Cheers,**_

_**ThoseWereTheDays**_


	4. Chapter 3

**III. A WARM RECEPTION**

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_Breathtaking._

Standing atop a high mountain precipice overlooking the tropical wonder that was Kashyyyk, Tavora silently gazed out at the jungle's lush flora and towering wroshyr trees. Miraculously, she had, along with her captain and their inept flight mechanic, managed to escape Coruscant without being killed or captured by Imperial forces. In her opinion, every moment since then had been a blessing. Things could have easily gone much worse. But somehow, against all the odds, they were still alive.

Closing her eyes, she basked in the warmth of the sun while the harmonious chirps and whistles of various indigenous life forms filled the air. Kashyyyk was far more pleasant than Coruscant. After their scare on the perilous city planet, she and her companions had immediately set out to deliver their next shipment. Upon their arrival to the Wookiees' homeworld, she had been charged with the task of scouting ahead for any signs of danger. It was an important job… one that a smugglers survival often depended on.

_Rule number one: don't trust anyone, and always expect a trap._

Luckily, she had found no apparent threat during her canvass of the area, and what had initially started off as a reconnaissance mission had soon turned into a leisurely stroll through the jungle. The natural splendor of the verdant planet had gone a long way to assuage her fears, and ease her worried mind. Unlike the bustling megalopolis of Imperial City, the wilderness was peaceful. Like dust swept away in the breeze, her concerns had gradually faded until, by the end of her hike, they were all but gone.

Now, as she stood within walking distance to their starship, she was content to wait for her crewmates to finish getting ready. However, she glanced over her shoulder when a loud curse suddenly met her ears. Turning to Diggs as he fumbled with their illegal cargo, she watched him grow more and more frustrated while he struggled to remove a storage strap from a stack of durasteel freight crates.

Exhaling, Tavora made her way toward the ship and started up its lowered gangplank.

"Looks like you could use some help," she spoke up once she had entered its hull. Approaching the disgruntled mechanic, she drew her vibroblade from the scabbard hanging at her side and proceeded to cut the strap loose. "They'll be expecting us soon. How are we coming along?"

"You worry too much, love," Diggs replied; flashing his fellow smuggler a grin when she rolled her eyes at the obnoxious pet name. "Relax. We're running right on schedule."

"Careful, Diggs…" she shot back, holding the tip of her dagger up to better emphasize her words. "I've just sharpened this."

The flight mechanic merely laughed as she sheathed the blade. "Yes, I've been meaning to ask you about that thing. Here we are taking on the Empire and who knows what else, and instead of carrying a good blaster you prefer your shiny, little knives."

"What's your point?" Tavora questioned.

Diggs answered with a shrug. "Only that if you ever do happen to find yourself surrounded by a legion of trigger–happy stormtroopers again, you might possibly benefit from having something with a bit more kick to it."

_Always eager to dole out advice._

"I don't like blasters," was her blunt response.

Both Tavora and Diggs turned with a start when their captain emerged from the cockpit and joined them. "You two are at it again, I see…"

"Aah, we were just mucking about, boss," Diggs replied. "It's not my fault that our esteemed colleague here has no sense of humor whatsoever."

"I can think of a few things I'd like to do to you that I'd find fairly amusing," Tavora quipped, resting a palm on her hip while she narrowed her eyes. "Would you care for a demonstration?"

"You see that, boss?" Diggs retorted, folding his arms across his chest to match her challenging posture. "She's very hostile, this one. Must be that hot Pantoran blood, eh?"

At this, Ryder chuckled and arched a brow. "Hey, she may snip a lot, but we all know she's well worth the trouble. Isn't that right, Tavora?"

Sighing, Tavora shook her head and started out of the ship. "I'm sure there was a veiled compliment in there somewhere. Are you ready?"

Ryder smirked and followed in tow. "Absolutely. Diggs, you stay here and get everything prepared to transport while we go make contact."

"What? You want me to stay behind?" Diggs asked, indignantly.

"We're going to meet with an Honor Clan," Tavora replied, never looking back or breaking her stride. "Somehow, I doubt they'll fully appreciate your charm and wit – delightful as they are."

* * *

It didn't take them long to reach the encampment. Unlike the typical villages of most native Wookiee tribes, which were ordinarily found high in the treetops, these particular Wookiees resided far below the immense jungle canopy. As Tavora had already explained, they were dealing with some of the fiercest warriors on all of Kashyyyk. As such, mobility was an essential part of their survival; especially now that they were challenging the Imperial occupation on their world.

Constantly in danger and on the move, the Honor Clan had to pack light and be prepared to relocate at the drop of a hat. That was precisely why Ryder and his crew had been contacted. Like much of the galaxy, the tribe was in desperate need of rations and other basic supplies that the Empire had deemed contraband. More often than not, smugglers were enlisted to distribute said goods throughout the subjugated systems. Some were even dubbed heroes for their efforts. However, at the moment, Ryder felt anything but welcome…

Several sets of watchful eyes followed the captain and his second–in–command while they made their way toward a large, burning ring of fire. They could hear a few low growls and inquisitive murmurs as numerous clanmembers emerged from their makeshift tents, and various other temporary shelters. It wasn't long before they found themselves completely surrounded.

_Vastly outnumbered… not an encouraging thought._

"I have to admit, this isn't quite what I had imagined," Ryder spoke up, uncomfortably clearing his throat. "I'm no Wookiee expert, but I do know that I'd like for my arms to stay in their sockets."

"Relax, they're only curious," Tavora reassured her anxious captain. "Just don't do anything to provoke them."

"Wouldn't dream of it," came his short response.

Together, they approached the halo of fire while a group of Wookiees brandishing spears gathered around its flames, and awaited their arrival.

"Remember what I said," Tavora whispered as they closed the distance. "These are the clan elders. Follow my lead, and don't speak unless spoken to… the last thing we want to do is offend them."

_Understatement of the century…_

Once they reached the fiery ring, Tavora immediately dropped to a knee and bowed her head. Ryder received a swift nudge in the leg from her elbow when he failed to do the same. However, he quickly obliged and knelt down an instant later.

"This is Captain Jinn," she announced, motioning toward him before drawing her vibroblade and holding it out in her upturned palms. Without lifting her head, she glanced over at Ryder. "Give them your blaster…"

Furrowing a brow, he reluctantly pulled his sidearm from its holster and did as instructed; slightly flinching when more than one of the nearest Wookiees voiced obvious wariness over the sight of the weapon. Much to his relief, they fell silent when one of the elders barked an order that, he could only assume, was meant as a warning. Fortunately, it worked and the younger clanmembers stayed where they were. Resisting the urge to steal a glimpse, he hastily mimicked Tavora's open display of submission by holding his blaster up for them to see.

"We mean no harm," Tavora continued, leaning forward and placing her dagger at their feet. This time, Ryder followed suit without hesitation and presented his blaster as a gift. "We offer you these weapons as a gesture of peace and friendship."

There was a long stretch of silence before one of the elders eventually stepped forward. Keeping their gazes firmly fixed on the ground, the pair of smugglers refrained from looking up as the aging Wookiee made his advance and halted directly in front of them. Ryder flinched a second time when a spear was plunged into the soft soil between his blaster and Tavora's blade. Clenching his jaw, he cast his companion as subtle a glance as he could manage while the elder hovered over them and bellowed. If he hadn't known any better, he would have sworn she was…

_Smiling? Is she insane?_

Mystified, he watched the Pantoran woman as she gave him a curt nod and stood. Once again following her lead, he finally peered up at the hulking Wookiee and rose back to his full height.

"Take it," Tavora said under her breath. "The spear… he's giving it to you."

Still slightly rattled, Ryder took a moment to compose himself before reaching out and yanking the spear from the dirt. Respectfully inclining his own head, the clan elder let out a series of deep growls and moans. Luckily, Tavora was there to interpret his words and speak on his behalf.

"This is their chieftain, Lowenta…" she translated. "I hope you're hungry, he's just invited us to join them for their night meal. It could be considered an insult if we refuse."

Ryder mustered a smile. "What are we having?"

* * *

**2 Days Later…**

Shortly after his third interrogation had concluded, Ryder had been escorted back to his holding cell. Some time later, the same uniformed men as before had arrived to deliver his boots, gloves and utility belt along with his clean, neatly pressed tunic. The only thing that had been missing was his blaster. Of course, he could still recall surrendering the pistol back on Kashyyyk before he had fallen into enemy hands.

_Nice move, captain. Why not just serve yourself up on a silver platter?_

Having already changed back into his own clothing, the imprisoned smuggler plopped down on the edge of the room's single bed and began to pull on his boots. The time was fast approaching when he would need to devise a plan, and attempt his escape. Once his captors discovered that he didn't have the answers they wanted and he was no longer of any use to them, he would undoubtedly be disposed of… it was not a fate that he had resigned himself to just yet. He wouldn't go quietly.

Rising from the bed's surprisingly soft mattress, Ryder tightened the straps to his boots before retrieving his belt. Lastly, he grabbed his old, worn–out gloves. He froze a moment later when he slid his right glove on and a strange, unexplainable sensation overtook him. Lifting his hand, he absently flexed his fingers while he intently studied it.

_Déjà vu._

His rumination was cut short when the door to his cell suddenly slid open with a whoosh, and he spotted a robed figure standing in the threshold. He recognized his visitor the minute he saw her… along with her associate, she had already questioned him on three separate occasions. Unfortunately, like before, she was enshrouded in darkness and appeared as nothing more than a black silhouette. Oddly, she seemed reluctant to enter and remained in the doorway. He waited, but no words were exchanged.

"Where's your friend?" he broke the growing silence once it had become too unbearable.

"I have come alone," was all the mysterious woman said.

Taking a cautious step forward, Ryder glared straight ahead and tried to make out a face beneath her drawn hood. Still, her identity remained hidden. That was, until she slowly reached up and removed the hood; revealing herself for the first time.

He hesitated before speaking again. "You're not with the Empire, are you?"

* * *

_**Author's Note**__**: **__I'd just like to thank those of you who have been leaving reviews for the feedback. As always, your input is greatly appreciated and I hope you enjoy the rest of the story! Also, once again, I own nothing (except for a few OC's)._

_**~ThoseWereTheDays**_

_P.S. For you Wookiee aficionados out there, Lowenta means "honored leader"._


	5. Chapter 4

**IV. THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM**

**

* * *

**

One word sprang to Ryder's mind as he clumsily bounded about, and clapped along with a multitude of yodeling Wookiees: relief. Evidently, once they had exchanged weapons with their new hosts and proven that they could indeed be trusted, he and Tavora had been welcomed with open arms. The very tribe that he had previously feared would tear him limb from limb had not only accepted the two smugglers, but had seen fit to include them in their festivities. A grand feast had kicked off nearly an hour earlier with the pounding of drums, and the distribution of gorimn wine.

_Delicious… and extremely alcoholic._

Now, as they performed what his second–in–command had called the Waita Tar, Ryder could see the Honor Clan not only as a band of fierce warriors, but a group of friends, allies and kinfolk merely embracing the simple pleasures of life while they still could… in a sense, he envied them that.

Illuminated by the ring of fire burning brightly in the middle of the encampment, young and old alike partook in the celebration; trying their best to forget about the constant, ever–present menace that loomed just overhead, and threatened to lay waste to everything they held countless other worlds throughout the galaxy, their planet had been targeted by the Empire. And like countless other species, the Wookiees had been shown no mercy. But they would not allow this to dampen their resolve. Clearly, they had no intention of giving up without a fight.

_Freedom. Most wanted it, but few had it._

It took Ryder a moment to catch his breath when a nearby clanmember gave him a spirited slap on the back, and the wind was knocked out of his lungs. Not wishing to show just how fragile humans were compared to the likes of the Kashyyyk natives, he continued to smile and clap his hands together while the female Wookiees proceeded to dance around their male counterparts. The ground almost seemed to quake as the thunderous rumble of drums continued to resound and intermingle with loud, boisterous singing. Tavora had attempted to explain the ritual to him beforehand, but he still hadn't been quite sure what to expect. He had simply been following her lead, as usual. Unfortunately, he had lost her amid the throng of cavorting Wookiees some time ago, and had been forced to improvise ever since.

Once again searching the vicinity for the missing Pantoran, Ryder's gaze eventually settled on a group of clanmembers huddled around their chieftain a short distance away. Legs crossed and tucked beneath her perpendicular frame, she sat among the gathered Wookiees while they ate their night meal. Hoping to avoid drawing attention to himself, Ryder discreetly withdrew from the dancing and made his way toward his crewmate. Noticing his arrival, she gestured for him to join her with a subtle nod. He said nothing as he took a seat on the ground beside her.

"Lowenta was just regaling us with tales of his youth," she spoke up, leaning closer so that her voice could be heard over the commotion. Extending her hand, she then offered Ryder an earthenware bowl before returning her focus to her own dish of Xachibik broth and wasaka berry dessert. "Try that, you'll like it."

Skeptical, Ryder studied the strange meat and wroshyr leaf combination. "What is it?"

"It's a vrortic cocktail," Tavora answered. "Don't worry, there's nothing in it that's going to kill you. Trust me."

Ryder opened his mouth to retort, but stopped himself when he realized that he was being scrutinized by numerous expectant Wookiees. Mustering a weak smile as not to seem ungrateful for their hospitality, he reluctantly scooped up what he considered to be a moderately sized portion of the food.

"More than that," Tavora said, rolling her eyes. "It's soaked in grakkyn nectar for weeks before it's served. Believe it or not, some off–worlders consider it to be a rare delicacy."

_Not this off–worlder…_

Struggling to contain a grimace as he scooped out a larger portion of the cocktail, Ryder held it up for the onlooking clanmembers to see and rubbed his stomach in an exaggerated show of approval. However, after taking a bite, he was surprised to find that the dish was actually quite good. Even sweet. Grinning, Tavora continued to enjoy her own supper while the Wookiees and their chieftain sat in quiet anticipation.

"Hey, it's not bad," Ryder finally broke the silence.

Most of the Wookiees erupted in delight while Tavora translated for those who didn't understand Basic. "Waag mam ga moo."

It wasn't long before the others joined in the howling and booming laughter. Shaking his head in amusement, Ryder glanced over at his second–in–command while she laughed along with them. He had known her for just under a year, yet she still never ceased to amaze him. To most outsiders, the Shyriiwook dialect sounded like nothing more than a series of animalistic barks, roars, moans and growls that conveyed little more than emotion. But Tavora wasn't like most outsiders… not only did she understand the main trade tongue of the Wookiees, but she had revealed on various occasions in the past that she was also fluent in at least six additional languages.

_Very impressive._

Dozens of torches flickering overhead, the smuggler didn't grimace as he took another bite of his dinner.

* * *

Ryder could feel a cool, light mist on his face as he stood and admired the magnificent waterfall rushing down before him. Not wishing to show disrespect or interrupt the festivities, he had left the Honor Clan's encampment to contact his disgruntled flight mechanic and inform him of their situation. According to Tavora, tradition demanded that they wait until the night meal had concluded before conducting any business. Once again, she had proven herself an integral part of the team. If not for her vast knowledge and insight, he realized that their dealings with the Wookiees would have been far more difficult, if not impossible.

Staring out at the stream flowing just in front of him, he watched a small, birdlike creature while it hovered over the water and plucked several tiny insects from its shimmering surface. With a flutter of its feathered wings, the avian took to the air and vanished an instant later.

"There you are…"

Turning with a start, Ryder smirked when he spotted Tavora making her way in his direction.

"Did you reach Diggs?" she questioned, stopping beside her captain and joining him as he returned his attention to the sparkling water. "I can only assume he is still sulking."

_An accurate assumption._

"I told him to sit tight and await further instructions," Ryder answered, his smirk broadening into a lopsided grin. "And no, he wasn't happy about it."

Arching a brow, Tavora continued to peer straight ahead. "So, what are you doing all the way out here? You shouldn't wander off too far."

"This is my first trip to Kashyyyk," Ryder replied. "Or to any jungle, for that matter. I thought I'd take a look around and do a little exploring of my own."

"Haven't you ever seen a waterfall?" Tavora teased.

"I'm not sure," Ryder said without thinking.

Somehow, he felt as if he had… like he had seen this place at one time, or something very similar. It was a feeling that he couldn't quite explain.

_Familiar. Reminiscent._

"You can't remember?" Tavora inquired.

Realizing that he may have divulged too much information, Ryder merely shrugged. "Maybe a long time ago."

Folding her azure arms across her chest, Tavora shot him a skeptical look before turning back to the stream. An impish smile spread across her lips when she glanced over at the waterfall. Taking him by the wrist, she pulled Ryder behind her as she started for a rock formation protruding from the rippling water near its base.

"What are you doing?"

"Come on, I'm going to show you something," was the Pantoran's blunt response. "You wanted to explore, didn't you?"

She didn't release her hold on him until they reached the formation. With an ease and grace that he couldn't help but marvel at, he remained where he was while she leapt out over the water and landed atop the rock.

"You coming?" she asked, sparing a brief glance over her shoulder before turning and jumping through the waterfall.

Taken aback by the abruptness of her action, Ryder knew that his mouth must have been gaping open as he watched her disappear from sight.

"Tavora?" he called out, but received no answer.

_I sure hope I know how to swim._

Gathering his wits, he hesitated before following in tow and leaping out onto the rock. Taking a moment to recover his balance, he moved into a crouching position and braced himself. He then jumped through the iridescent torrent of water, but nearly lost his footing on the slick rock when he landed behind it. Luckily, a pair of hands grabbed his tunic and steadied him just as he began to topple over completely.

Drenched from head to toe, Ryder let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks, I owe you one."

"Just one?" Tavora quipped.

Chuckling, Ryder took in his new surroundings. Resting behind the waterfall, he found himself standing in a dark alcove just large enough to accommodate both he and his mischievous companion. It wasn't until he caught his first glimpse of the cascading water from behind that he understood why exactly she had led him there. Pouring down from above, it shone with a brilliant green and blue; the stars and moonlight creating an almost otherworldly luster. From their vantage point, the mist swirling through the air reminded him of thousands of glowbugs drifting to and fro.

_Truly a sight to behold._

"It's incredible…" he trailed off; losing himself in the depths of the translucent light in its pure splendor.

"There's nothing else like it," Tavora agreed.

The natural display was undoubtedly the most spectacular sight he had ever laid eyes on. That was, until he turned back to the radiant figure standing beside him just in time to catch her loosening her usual messy ponytail. His breath was taken away as her long, lilac–colored hair spilled over her shoulders, and fell down to frame her face. If he hadn't been gaping before, Ryder was sure that he was now.

_Beautiful. Like an angel…_

Unaware of his lingering gaze, she delicately ran her slender fingers through her wet, disheveled locks. "Well, not such a scary place after all, is it?"

Ryder suddenly found it difficult to speak. Puzzled, Tavora looked over at him when he gave no reply. She halted her movement after he acted on an impulse, and lifted a hand to gingerly wipe a stray strand of hair from her cheek. Slightly faltering, his confidence began to waver until, at last, he felt her lean into his touch. The reaction gave him all the encouragement he needed…

Maybe it was the Cortyg brandy that he had ingested, or whatever had been in the ceremonial pipe that the Wookiee elders had insisted they share, but he quickly discovered that he was feeling much bolder and more adventurous than normal. Or perhaps, that was simply what he chose to tell himself.

Slowly, he closed the distance that separated them until they stood only a few inches apart. He could feel the warmth of her breath as his lips brushed against hers, and there were no longer any barriers between them. Replaying their first kiss back on Coruscant over and over in his head, he wondered if the second would be like he imagined. There had been a tenderness in his crewmate that night… a tenderness that he had never before seen in her.

Wincing, Ryder couldn't hide his frustration and disappointment when his commlink unexpectedly chimed. He frowned as Tavora sobered and motioned toward the metallic device.

"You should probably get that," she said, softly.

_I'm going to kill him._

With a labored sigh, he grudgingly retrieved the commlink. "What do you want, Diggs? I'm a little busy."

"Not as busy as you're gonna be in a few minutes," the mechanic's distorted voice responded. "We've got some incoming company, boss. Two ships, maybe three. Imperial by the looks of 'em."

Ryder blanched. "How long do we have?"

* * *

**2 Days Later…**

The smuggled stood in stunned silence as his captor pulled back her hood and finally revealed herself. His eyes grew wide when he saw her smooth sienna skin, and the striking lekku that had previously been concealed beneath her heavy cloak.

_Togruta._

It was obvious to Ryder the moment he saw his visitor's face that she was not aligned with the Imperialists, or their oppressive regime. The Empire had always emphasized human, and to a lesser extent, humanoid supremacy. As a result of its bigotry, 'non–humans' were not permitted to enlist in its army, and were seldom appointed positions of great power or authority. This, coupled with the fact that he had not yet been subjected to the typical intimidation tactics and methods of torture that had given the barbaric government its infamous reputation, made him wonder what had truly transpired back on Kashyyyk after his fall.

"You're not with the Empire, are you?" he deduced.

The Togruta woman nodded. "No, I'm not…"

"The Rebellion?" Ryder wondered aloud.

"Not exactly," she answered.

Standing firm, Ryder continued to glare at her. "Where am I? What happened to my crew?"

"You're on a planet called Shili," the woman replied, her tone calm and even. "I'm sorry, but I don't know what happened to your crew. It was only by chance that we found you when we did."

"I don't know what you want from me, but you can't keep me locked up forever," Ryder retorted. "Sooner or later, you'll either have to kill me or let me go."

"We have no intention of harming you," the Togruta assured him. "And you're right… we can't hold you here forever. You're free to leave whenever you'd like."

Ryder watched in stunned silence a second time when the woman stepped aside, and presented him with a clear path to the cell's only exit. The durasteel door was open, taunting him to dash through it, but something about the mysterious Togruta held him back. He wanted nothing more than to run as fast as he could; to flee her company and make his escape, find his way back to his ship. But his legs wouldn't comply. And so, he stood there, transfixed and unmoving. She knew something, some secret, that he didn't.

_Something important._

Already, Ryder had told her more about his past than he had told any other living soul. Why he had opened up to her, he wasn't sure. For some reason, he knew that she could be trusted. At least, he thought she could. It was another feeling that he couldn't explain, but he had followed his instincts and survived enough scrapes because of them to know that they didn't steer him wrong often.

"Who are you?" he questioned.

"A friend," the woman replied. "Somebody that can help you."

Ryder took a cautious step forward. "What makes you think I need help?"

"It must be difficult… living your life without knowing who you are," came the woman's disconcerting response. Her words then became gentle, oddly soothing. "What if I told you there was a way to get your memories back? What if I told you that we can help you remember?"

"You've imprisoned and interrogated me," Ryder snapped while he suspiciously narrowed his eyes and took another step forward. "I don't even know your name. Why should I believe anything you say?"

The enigmatic Togruta exhaled before speaking again. "You're right. How can I expect you to take a leap of faith if I am not willing to do so myself?"

There was a long pause.

"My name is Ahsoka Tano."

* * *

_**Author's Note**__**:**_

_Sorry for the delay, but I had some technical issues with the update. Hopefully, this chapter turned out okay and was worth the wait. As always, your reviews are much appreciated and I own nothing (apart from a few OC's)!_

_**~ThoseWereTheDays**_

_P.S. In Wookieespeak, 'waag mam ga moo' means 'the food is good'. Just a bit of trivia for you Wookiee lovers out there…_


End file.
